Clarence’s POV

I arrived ten minutes early.

The café was quiet, tucked on a side street not far from the campus gates—one of those neutral, inoffensive places with soft music, minimalist lighting, and the faint smell of roasted beans that never quite masked the tension in the air.

Grace was already seated by the window.

She looked different in daylight. Smaller, somehow. Her hands were wrapped tightly around a paper ...